Long Sleeves
by StriderSis
Summary: Dave has an addiction and in the worst of moments it offers comfort. Temporary comfort that is, but enough for Dave.


***TRIGGER WARNING: SELF-HARM***

**awritersinspiration prompt #53: He slammed on his breaks and muttered under his breath. The truck slid sideways and came to a jerky halt in the middle if the highway.**

He slammed on his breaks and muttered under his breath. The truck slid sideways and came to a jerky halt in the middle if the road.

"DAMN IT." Dave yelled from the top of his lungs. He checked his mirrors and made sure no one came along the road. He held the steering wheel with strength, his knuckles turned white and his nails dug into the underside of it. He opened the door forcefully and walked towards the front right wheel. With his fists in his pockets he kicked the tire, hitting his big toe.

He immediately screamed and held his foot. "Fuck! What is going on today!? Why- WHY CAN'T I STOP THINKING ABOUT IT." Dave screamed at the sky trying to relief his anger. He walked around the truck and opened the trunk, taking out a stress ball from his backpack. He squeezed it with might and dug his nails into it.

He looked at the stress ball, his mind flashing back to his own gushing blood. Dave immediately let go of the ball, and pressed his thumbs against his temples. "STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT." Tears began falling from behind his shades turning his eyes redder than they already were.

"I swear I didn't mean to hurt you I'm sorry, I'm sorry." His mind raced through the event over and over like a scratched movie.

The hitting, the crying, the apologizing, he swears he didn't mean to hurt him, he really didn't. He was just being so stupid and naive, so **annoying**.

Dave hit himself in the head trying to forget it all. The hit stung but solved nothing of the problem. He knew there was only one thing that it could solve it.

He turned to the trunk again and took out a pocket knife. He shut the car, went to the front and drove to a side just in case someone would drive along the lonely road. He stopped and looked at the seat next to him where the knife rested. He moved the seat backwards, leaving more space in the front of him.

The young boy took off his shades. They would just intervene with the whole process. He left them on the passenger seat and took the razor in his hand. Tears began flowing again and he felt the sharpness of the knife on his wrist.

At first Dave didn't push down, wanting to just feel the razor sharp end. He had just sharpened the knife so he knew going to deep would mean certain death, although something about that though made him more comfortable. He brought the knife down to his wrist, close to his palm and pressed down slightly. He moved the knife to a side slowly as it broke his skin and red blood busted out of his veins. He held his breath.

After the first cut he looked at the dark red blood coming out of his body and slipping around his arm. He loved that color, it was so beautiful, a little darker than his own eyes but not too dark. He took the knife down to his wrist again and this time cut deeper. He could see the flesh in between the two sides of the cut this time.

Dave took the knife down again and again every time a little deeper observing the cuts, some were done slowly and professionally, others quickly trying to ease the pain. Eventually his whole forearm was covered in blood. There was so much it was spilling down to the seat dyeing it dark red. In fact there was a little too much, he started to worry. Dave put the knife down and took off his shirt, feeling the sting of the friction of the clothes against his wounds. He took the shirt in his other arm and began pressing down. That's when it took effect.

The endorphins were immediately shot all around his body to ease the pain. He felt numb, exactly how he wanted to feel. The feeling of not feeling anything at all. That was his favorite part. His mind was clear and his muscles relaxed, he closed his eyes as tears poured down his face, now sobbing.

He cried for a while until he stopped bleeding. His mind empty from worry. He took off the clothing, that had stuck to the healing wounds on his arm and went outside to the trunk again. He found the 1st aid kit and applied the stinging rubbing alcohol and bandages around his arm. He took out a spare shirt from the back of the truck that was way too big on him and had a lame pizza place logo on it.

_As long as it has long sleeves I'll be fine_, he thought.

_As long as it has long sleeves._

He drove off as if nothing had happened.


End file.
